Humpty Dumpty Pieces of Me Coming Back Together
by paintedallup
Summary: Heroes; Sylar/Elle, Little Noah, Elle/Uncle Peter.


The fear (that _always_ was waiting for me when I shut my eyes) of still seeing his face in my nightmares faded away when for the first time in years I feel into an actual dream rather then my all too familiar nightmares.

(filled to the brim with flying '_Uncle_' Peters with judging eyes along with me, Sylar and Noah, _one big happy family_)

Each morning since the '_I forgive you_' scene, I've woken up to a_ red rose_ on my night table.

No '_I love yous'_ or things I might never be ready for, just a_ 'thank you' _each and every _single_ time.

"Your _welcome_, Gabriel."

-

It's been months since all of this began again (back to seeing his face more then I have in four _whole_ years), months filled with '_daddy_' coming for his time with the son he's always wanted and becoming the father that is _finally_ here.

And of course months full of calls that read '_Peter_' that for the most part have never been picked up, someday but not today I'll _have_ to answer of those.

(_'How could you let that monster back in your life? What about us?' 'There has never been a us, not back then and sure as hell not today, Peter' _and it all ended in fits of _rage_ and eyes closing tight to _run away_)

"_Sylar_."

This would be the ninth Friday that's he's shown up (all the neighbors know is 'shared custody' and that's all they will ever know, well, until someone blows us all to hell) and just like every other time instead of being indifferent, which I try too hard at, my heart jumps into my throat and my fingers hold tightly yo my son.

"Hello, _El_, every thing between _you_ and _Peter_ okay? (if not he's first on my still growing _kill_ list, which you got taken off of so very _long_ ago)"

(the reason for this question, which is always filled with _fire_ and _jealously_, is because Peter is my '_boyfriend_', well, as far as he _knows_)

It's like a play (which the thing once called '_us_' was back then, all just an _act_), being preformed _over_ and _over_ again, the same words coming from him and almost always the same answers coming from _myself_.

"Were fine, _Sylar_. Noah, baby, go with your father I'll see you on Monday. Have _fun_."

(cue the over the _mother_ voice that always works on both kids, spouses if I had one, and people of all ages)

"Bye _mommy_! I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too, _honey_, more then you'll _ever_ know."

-

The first time that this happened, (which to everyones surprise it didn't end in his _multiple_ deaths) distrusting the man that came into my life, who I _let_ in even after all the things that had _unfolded_ between us, and took the one person I loved in the world away from me for three _whole_ days, I was more then a little afraid of what _could_ happen.

"You don't _trust_ me yet do you?"

"No, _not yet_, but if you bring him back in once piece (and with a _brain_), maybe that will change."

"You have my _word_."

(at this time his '_word_' meant nothing at all to me but now it finally has at least _some_ meaning)

-

"_Elle_?"

And the winner of coming at the wrong (so _wrong_ that it's a little funny, but I won't be laughing, _not one bit_) time _ever_ goes to _Peter_, or as everyone, meaning me and _Noah_, calls him '_Uncle_' Peter.

"_Peter_, what are doing here?"

This isn't the first time that he's shown up without warning in our time knowing each other (_one_- the one thing I hate him for, breaking my heart, _two_ - '_Sylar let her go_' Then _suddenly_ caring for me, and _three_ – becoming Noah's _Uncle_ and falling for me) which is measured not in years but in the times I was given the chance of seeing him, which was _few_ until now.

"I've been coming (using a power taken my friend _Claude_, it's even more funny saying it) here once a week making sure _he_ didn't do anything to _Noah_. This time I thought I'd check up on you, are you okay, _Elle_? Has he _hurt_ you?"

(_'Just in my heart, that one part of me besides my brain, that has been damaged in tiny little pieces for years and not even you, Peter, can put it back together again. Why don't you go see Claire and make her your Humpty-Dumpty?'_)

"He hasn't done anything to me or _Noah_, just been there for him. Anyway before you disappear or fly away to go save the world, _once again_, you should see Noah he _misses_ you."

"Do _you_?"

"_Sometimes_, not all the time like Noah. Oh-_Peter_?"

For one moment (which felt like _hundreds_ and _hundreds_ of them all put into slow motion) I thought that either he or I were going to do the thing that we hadn't done since before Sylar darkened our doorsteps, fall into each other, kiss until our lips were going to fall away or at least find comfort so we could take away the _pain_ that fills us up.

But this time all he did was wrap his arms around me and hugged me like so _many_ other times but this time it was different, more gentle, more _loving_.

And without knowing it, as he smiled at me with both his _lips_ and _scar_, he put one of the very small pieces of my heart back together.

And to think I _doubted_ him like I _doubted_ ever forgiving the father of my child, maybe I shouldn't _doubt_ anymore?

"_T-thanks_, Peter. _Oh_, as I was saying before your now limited to one phone call per day, it's really hard to tell if the ringing is coming from the phone or inside my own _head_."

-

Like all the times before (which were still filled with as much fear as the _very_ first time), the many days spent not with _Peter_ but worrying my little head off about the one and only thing I would worry about in my whole life, _Noah_.

My eyes swept over my smiling and giggling _baby boy _as he flew into my arms (and I don't mean actual flying, not every one can be _Superman_), checking every inch of him to make sure he was whole and like each time he was_ tip-top_ shape.

(I'll never in my life will get tried of hearing the word '_mom_', '_mother_' or '_mommy_')

"_Mommy_! Daddy took me see the penguins and the lions and got we got a _pony_ for you! Your _favorite_!"

The eight-year old girl in me (which I'm good at hiding _nowadays_) almost sneaked out as I let out a little squeal before I could try and control myself. (all of it thanks to _daddy_-_dearest_)

"Thanks, _baby_, I love it. Now go wash up for dinner, _mac & cheese_, your favorite."

Just like every single time he let lose a cry of joy (the one that I was holding in until we were alone together without _prying_ eyes) and ran off with cheese on the brain, the one thing he wasn't picky about.

The face belonging to the man I have cursed on more then one _occasion_ was turned up in a smile that I hadn't seen on his face in years ('_you took the pain away_') as he was leaving until next time when this would all be played out in the very _same_ way.

"_Thanks_."

"Anything for you, El, _anything_."

Well, maybe not in the _same_ way.


End file.
